


The Woman in White

by MarieQuiteContrarie (SeaStar1330)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, First Crush, Fluff, Ghosts, Halloween, Mild Smut, Rumbelle - Freeform, Rumbelle Revelry, Rumbelle Revelry 2016, Storybrooke, Swanfire - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 03:10:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8429191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeaStar1330/pseuds/MarieQuiteContrarie
Summary: 2017 TEA WINNER - BEST RUMBELLE REVELRYBraeden Gold doesn’t believe that his house is haunted, but his best friend Emma Nolan, who claims that a ghost woman in a white shroud leaves his house each night, is giving him doubts. When the two ten-year-olds decide to investigate, Braeden discovers that more mischief has been afoot at the Gold residence than he ever imagined.





	1. Haunted

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Adrienne714](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adrienne714/gifts).



> For adria626 on Tumblr for Rumbelle Revelry. Happy Halloween! Since you prefer humorous fluff, that's what I've tried to deliver. It's been fun writing this story for you! I'm going to post it in three parts to keep the fluffy All Hallow's Eve fun coming throughout the day.
> 
> Prompt: Shroud, black widow, grim reaper (I used shroud and black widow).

“No way!” Ten-year-old Braeden Gold ripped off his Tenth Doctor Halloween mask and tossed it in the dirt, shaking his head wildly. “Take it back, Emma!”

“It’s true, Bae!” Emma Nolan, his best friend and next door neighbor, jabbed his chest with a glittery silver magic wand. “You know I’m right. Ask Auggie, ask Graham, ask anyone.”

Tomorrow was Halloween, and they were walking the half mile home from school following their class Halloween parade and party. Usually, Bae loved spending time with Emma, but some days she was stubborn and mean. Today was one of those days.

“Huge, creepy, pink house on a hill? And isn’t it, like, over one hundred years old?” Emma needled him as they cut through the pumpkin patch behind Bae’s house. “Of course it’s haunted. Why do you think no one goes trick-or-treating there?”

“Our house is not pink! It’s salmon!” Bae cried.

“Same diff,” Emma scoffed.

Hot prickles of embarrassment burned his cheeks. Why couldn’t they get the house painted a normal color? Better yet, they should move as far away from Emma Nolan and her stupid lying face as possible. Maybe to the other side of town. Or California.

“You’ll be sorry for spreading lies,” Braeden threatened. “My dad gives out full size candy bars, and you won’t get one!”

“So what?” Emma stuck out her tongue. “It’s not a lie! Not if you’re telling someone what you saw. I’ve watched the ghost float out the back door of your house, through this pumpkin patch, and down the hill in her white shroud from my room.”

“You’ve seen a ghost? Leaving my house?” Braeden sucked on the inside of his cheek to keep from crying. Emma’s bedroom window had a perfect view of the field of pumpkins behind his backyard.  “There’s no such thing as ghosts!” Tears burned his eyes and he swiped at them angrily. No way would he cry like a whiny baby in front of Emma Nolan.

“Yes.” Emma’s nod was serious. “A ghost with long, dark hair, hovering above the ground. She always wears a flowing white shroud. I’ve seen her almost every night for the past few weeks.”

“What’s a shroud?” Bae asked, stumbling over one of the pumpkin patch’s gnarled branches as he wound his way through the maze of fat, orange gourds.

“It’s what they used in the old days to wrap bodies in when people died,” Emma explained.

He kicked at a twisted twig; it looked like cluster of clawed fingers and he shuddered. “I don’t believe you.”

“Are there any girls with long, dark hair living at your house?”

“No,” Bae admitted, feeling a pang of longing for something he couldn’t name.

“Well then.” Emma crossed her arms with a smug smile. She twirled around the pumpkin patch in her princess ball gown, the swish of her blonde ponytail churning Braeden’s gut like eggs scrambled in a white hot pan.

“You are… _Ugh_!” Braeden stomped his foot, wanting to shut her up, but also wanting her to keep talking to him. Emma was a terrible tease. It was annoying, but she was his best friend. She was smart, pretty, and she could scramble up a tree faster than anyone he’d ever seen. There were times he wanted to punch her in the nose, and there were times that looking at her made his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth.

 “I’m what?” she challenged, swatting him with her treat bag from the school party.

“You aren’t my friend anymore!” Bae said, then whirled toward his house to finish the trek home solo.

“Bae, wait. I’m sorry.” She tugged on his coat sleeve and he turned back to face her. Emma’s sky blue eyes were saucer-wide in her face. “I’m just telling you what I saw.”

Bae crossed his arms and turned away from her again, but this time he didn’t try to leave.

“I have an idea,” Emma said, touching his shoulder.

“What?” he asked dully, still not looking at her.

“I’ll prove it to you. Tomorrow night. Meet me at my house and we’ll watch for the ghost. Ten o’ clock.”

“At night?”

“Yes, at night, silly. That’s when ghosts come out,” Emma said.

“How am I gonna sneak out of the house?” he asked, worried.

Braeden’s father was nothing but kind. Sure he was as strict as any parent, but he was always pleasant and helpful—the best dad a kid could ask for. As far back as he could remember, it had been just he and Dad banging around that creaky old house. But people in town were afraid of his father. His father had a notorious temper—particularly with folks who didn’t pay their rent on time. Those people got in trouble because they broke the rules, and Bae didn’t want to be one of them.

“Tomorrow’s Friday and it’s Halloween. No school the next day, so even if we stay up really late we can sleep in on Saturday,” Emma reasoned. “Besides, you said your dad goes to bed early, right?”

“Yeah.” Lately, his father had been going to bed right after tucking him in. Every morning, though, Dad had been yawning and falling asleep in his cereal bowl. Yesterday he’d actually dunked his head in the bowl, started snoring, and didn’t wake up until he snorted milk. He looked ridiculous, sputtering milk with wet Cheerios stuck to his face, but he didn’t seem to mind. The fearsome pawnbroker had merely laughed and headed to the bathroom to wash up. Bae shrugged. Parents were weird.

“What about you?” he asked, concerned for Emma. “Won’t your Mom and Dad…?”

“Nah, they’re too busy changing Neal’s disgusting diapers.” Emma wrinkled her nose in distaste.

Emma’s parents were on the lenient side, and since her baby brother Neal had come along six months ago, they were always fussing over him. Bae knew that Emma was a little jealous of not being the center of attention any more, but her newfound freedom more than made up for it.

“How about this?” Emma snapped her fingers. “We’ll trick or treat together tomorrow, then when we come back to my house and dump our candy, I’ll ask my parents if we can have a sleepover. That way, you don’t have to worry about sneaking out.”

Bae considered. If he went along with Emma’s plan, he could be there to prove her wrong when the ghost was a no-show. First, he was going to the library to do a little ghost research of his own, and talk to Miss French. He wasn’t going to mention that to Emma because her parents and other people around town whispered about Storybrooke’s librarian. They said she was mysterious, but Bae didn’t understand why. He liked Miss French a lot; she was always friendly and open with him, and she had a way of making hard things make sense. Maybe she could even suggest some good books that would explain all about ghosts and goblins.

“So are we doing this?” Emma pressed, a sly grin creeping over her face.

“Fine.” Anything to get Emma off his case and to abandon the ridiculous idea that his house was haunted.

“Awesome. This is gonna be so cool!” Emma crowed.

“Uh huh,” Bae said distractedly, racking his brain for an excuse to leave. “Oh, no! I forgot! Soccer practice! I gotta go,” he lied. “See you tomorrow, Emma!”

Leaving Emma on the sidewalk between their two houses, he raced back toward the school. Once he’d disappeared around the corner, he shifted track and headed for the Storybrooke Community Library.

* * *

  
Belle French strolled through the library, flicking her feather duster at cobwebs and clearing stray books off study tables and out of cozy reading alcoves. Save for the creaks and groans common among older buildings, the library was as quiet as a tomb tonight.

Pride welled in her chest as Belle surveyed the spooky scene: the library had been lavished with Halloween decorations including lit pumpkins, creepy skeleton bones, and her personal favorite—creepily realistic black widow spiders. She laughed to herself at the tongue-in-cheek nod to the moniker the townspeople had assigned to her.

Piling books on the shelving carts dotted around the large room, Belle came up short at the sight of a young boy bent low over a stack of books. She smiled; she would know that dark crop of curls and those little pixie ears anywhere. Braeden Gold.

Crumpling a bit of paper so she didn’t startle him with her approach, Belle inched closer and peered over his shoulder. _Ghost House_ , _Is My House Haunted?,_ _Kids Who See Ghosts, Halloween Haunting,_ and _Ghost Hunting for Dummies_ were a few of the titles that littered the study table.

“Evening, Braeden. I like your Halloween costume.” Belle grinned in delight at the little suit, sneakers, and full-length trench coat he wore.

He turned toward her with a slight smile and tugged on his tie. “Hi, Miss French. Thanks. I’m Ten from Doctor Who. My dad picked it out for me.”

“Your dad has great taste.”

“Yeah.”

“And speaking of the spookiest day of the year, that’s quite a selection of books you have there,” Belle said, fingering one of the dog-eared pages. “You like ghosts, huh?”

“Not exactly,” he said. It’s, um, a research project. For school.”

“Really?” Belle stared at the ten-year-old in surprise. “Your teacher usually has me set books aside for special projects. I didn’t know the fourth graders were talking about paranormal activity.”

“Para-what?” Bae tilted his head and looked at her strangely.

“Ghosts, honey,” Belle said, biting back a smile. His pensive frown was a copycat of his father’s.

“Oh yeah. Right.”

Belle shrugged; she was always eager to foster a love of reading and research, especially with children.

“What about your father?” Belle cleared her throat, hoping Bae couldn’t see the blush she felt creeping up her cheeks. “Does, ah, does he like ghost stories?”

Bae chewed the tip of a pencil thoughtfully. “I don’t really know.”

“Well, I’ll let you get back to work,” Belle said, not wanting to pump him for information about his dad. “We’re closing in thirty minutes. Let me know if you need any help, hmm?”

“Miss French, wait. Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, Braeden.” Belle pulled out the chair across from him and sat down.

“So I have this friend I really like, but I don’t know if she likes me. What should I do?” he asked.

“Seems like a simple enough question, but feelings make it complicated, don’t they?” Belle nodded sympathetically.

“Yeah,” he said with a sigh.

Belle mulled it over, astonished to find the question was relevant to her own life at the moment. “I would say you should let the person know you care.”

“And what if she laughs at me?”

This young man cut right to the point, and Belle was impressed by his maturity. She had a sneaking suspicion they were discussing Braeden’s pretty blonde classmate Emma Nolan, but she didn’t say so. “That’s always a possibility, but if they’re someone worth caring for, they won’t laugh at you. Either way being honest is best, because then you know where you stand. My advice is to take the risk and share your feelings,” she advised.

“Is that what you do when you care about someone?” he asked, guileless brown eyes searching hers.

“Well, it’s what I want to do. It’s not always easy to take your own advice, but nothing is ever as bad or as difficult as it seems,” she said, patting his hand. “And love is always worth the risk.”

“You’re right,” he said, sitting up straighter in his chair.

“Why don’t you finish your research and head on home, sweetie?” Belle glanced at the clock on the wall; it was nearly suppertime. “I’m sure your dad is waiting for you to come home and eat dinner with him.”

“Thanks, Miss French,” he said, picking up his books and moving to the counter. “I always…things always feel better after I talk to you.”

“You’re welcome, Bae.” She reached across the desk and hugged his narrow shoulders. “I’m always here for anything you need.”


	2. Trick or Treat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gold has a surprise visitor before trick or treat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of my 3-part Halloween fluff fic.

It was a rare afternoon that Christopher Gold came home early from the pawnshop, but today was Halloween and tonight the streets would be filled with little ghosts and goblins in search of candy. On his way back to the old Victorian manse he shared with Bae, he’d stopped at Dark Star Pharmacy for trick or treat supplies. Already the fall and Halloween sweets were marked down to half price. At the checkout, he’d frowned in displeasure at the massive barrels of Christmas and Hanukkah candy displayed throughout the store. Gold was all for commerce and he loved a good deal, but by the gods—it wasn’t even Thanksgiving yet.

He was setting out the carved jack-o’-lanterns and pouring a hodgepodge of chocolate bars into a large bowl when the doorbell rang. Gold snapped open his pocket watch as he hobbled to the door; trick or treat didn’t begin for another two hours. Perhaps Bae had forgotten his key. But when he opened the door, he was surprised to see Belle French standing on the porch.

“Trick or treat,” she greeted with a sunny smile. She was wearing a trench coat and tottering on a pair of towering high heels. A black canvas bag emblazoned with the words _“I Cannot Live Without Books”_ was hooked over one shoulder.

“Miss French.” Perplexed by her arrival, he smirked. “We don’t start distributing candy until 6 o’ clock in this neighborhood.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Gold,” Belle said, and dipped her knees in a tiny curtsey. The autumn wind was sharp and cold and she crossed her arms over her chest and shivered.  Curious blue eyes danced past his to rove around the hallway.

“Are our library books overdue?” He continued his cool appraisal of the lovely librarian, her chestnut curls whipping in the wind and her eyes bright with secrets.

“No.” Belle giggled, an enchanting sound, and pulled a child’s sweatshirt out of her bag. “Braeden left this at the library yesterday evening. The temperature is dropping and I figured he needed it back right away.”

“Yes, I don’t know how he’ll manage,” Gold said wryly, rolling his eyes as he accepted the green hoodie. “He only has twenty-five other zippered sweatshirts. I’m going bloody broke with all the Amazon deliveries to my house each week.”

“I see,” Belle said, looking at him expectantly.

“Was there something else?” he asked. His mask began to falter, and he could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. Should he invite her in for coffee?

“No.” She threw him another bright smile and spun around, beginning her descent down the porch steps.

“Wait!” he called, not wanting her to leave quite yet.

“Yes?” she asked eagerly, coming to stand on the porch once more.

“Thank you for bringing this back,” he said, biting back a grin as he dangled the sweatshirt in front of her face. “Good evening.”

“Actually,” she said, boldly stepping across the threshold and into the foyer, “there is something else.” Her abrupt entrance into his home caused him to stumble back a bit, and he stared at her in confusion.

Belle untied the sash on her raincoat, allowing it to fall to the side as she unbuttoned the trench with deft fingers. Slowly, she allowed the coat to fall open, revealing a midnight black negligee. Black fishnet stockings ended just above her knees, where they were fastened with black silk garters leading up her creamy white thighs. They disappeared under the lace of the gown, and she fingered the hem of her lingerie. Gold’s mouth went dry at the sight of her exquisite curves.

Belle hurtled herself into his arms. He dropped Bae’s sweatshirt and caught her, staggering back under the force of her assault, but he wasn’t complaining as their mouths smashed together in a searing, needy kiss. Belle traced his lips with her soft, wet tongue and he struck out wildly, stabbing the front door closed with his cane. The thick, leaded glass rattled as their bodies pressed against it and he moaned as Belle wound her hands into his hair and tugged him down in a desperate clash of tongues and teeth.

“Why – what are you doing here now?” he asked raggedly, his lips traveling down the side of her neck. “I thought we agreed to meet tonight after the damn trick or treaters are gone and Bae goes to bed.”

“I couldn’t wait,” she murmured, peppering kisses along his jawline. “Missed you so much last night.” Her warm breath in his ear made him shiver and he whimpered as she sucked his earlobe into her hot mouth. Gold’s eyes fluttered closed as she cupped his groin, his body already straining against his suit pants.

Undone, he groaned in surrender. “We have just a little while before Bae’s home to change into his costume,” he warned as she attacked the buttons on his shirt.

“I’ll be quick,” Belle whispered seductively, yanking his shirttails from his trousers and dropping to her knees to begin unbuckling his belt. Gold sighed as he relaxed into her touch, reveling in the feel of her small, warm hands on his feverish skin.

The sharp, piercing ring of the house phone interrupted their impromptu tryst.

Holding his half-undone trousers by one hand, he picked up the antique receiver in the foyer and answered. “Hello?”

“Is it Bae?” Belle whispered, concern and compassion reflected in her eyes. “Everything alright?”

He nodded and smiled, telling her with a look that there were no emergencies, at least not at the moment. With a contented smile, Belle gently pushed Gold back against the Georgian wingback chair beside the telephone table, and he plopped down without thinking.

“Is it okay with her mother?” Gold’s eyes closed in concentration, a feeble attempt to ignore the delicious things Belle was doing to his body while he chatted with his son.

Belle divested him of his shoes and trousers, and leaned between his spread legs to nuzzle his inner thighs. The silk of his boxer-briefs was growing hot against his crotch, and he began to perspire with the effort of focusing on his conversation.

“Let me talk to Mrs. Nolan, please,” Gold said, gasping as Belle began to stroke him through the fabric. He shot her a warning look, and Belle covered her mouth to stifle a giggle.

“… as long as it’s fine with you, Mary Margaret,” Gold told Emma’s mother, his eyes squeezed shut in concentration as Belle crawled up his body to massage his shoulders and kiss his neck. “Yes, just send Bae home tomorrow after breakfast. I’ll be home all evening if any need arises.”

Gold dropped the receiver into the cradle haphazardly, crying out in relief that the awkward conversation was over.

“My needs are arising,” Belle breathed, running her soft hands over his chest before guiding him to his feet.

“Naughty girl,” he said, cupping her breasts. Her nipples were standing out against her thin silk teddy, perfect pebbles begging to be plucked and rolled between his fingertips.

“How long?” she murmured into his mouth, fitting her curves against his hollows.

“All night,” he said, his sigh strangled as she slipped her hands down and around his waist, rubbing lightly over his hips, and kneading his buttocks. “Bae’s been invited to spend the night at Emma Nolan’s next door. On their couch, of course. That means you can spend the night here. All night. Not on the couch.” 

“That’s excellent news,” she said with a wicked grin. Tugging gently on his loosened tie, she led him up the stairs to his bedroom.

They’d been carrying on a secret affair since the beginning of October. Gold hoped they would go public eventually, but not until they discussed their relationship with Braeden. And that assumed it was all right with Belle—they hadn’t discussed taking their liaison beyond the bedroom.

Not that he would blame Belle for wanting to remain incognito. With both of their less-than-pristine reputations, the town pariah and the quirky librarian were the last couple anyone would expect. Gold had parted ways with his wife and Bae’s mother, Milah, soon after Braeden’s first birthday. He’d caught her in bed with a door-to-door insurance salesman, and they had run off together and never returned. The betrayal had hardened his heart, and in the years since, he had earned a reputation as the town monster, an unforgiving man, ruthless in his business dealings and eschewing personal relationships beyond the one he shared with Bae.

Belle had a questionable reputation as well. The tiny hamlet of Storybrooke had a closed-minded, unspoken rule that all women over the age of twenty-five should be married; living life as a single woman simply wasn’t done. At age thirty-one, Belle had been single for several years past the mandatory married age. In fact, she had evaded the standards of their small-minded society for so long that people called her the black widow.

Rumors even circulated among the children that Belle’s former fiancé—who made the decision to move to Paris—had actually been murdered by the bookish beauty. A few even whispered that as revenge for breaking her heart, Belle had buried her former lover’s remains in the floor of the library. He didn’t know why Belle had stayed in Storybrooke long as she had, but he was grateful.

Perverse bastard that Gold was, for him the intrigue surrounding Miss French only added to her appeal. Not that he believed a word of the talk, but it kept other eligible bachelors at a distance. Content to admire her from afar, he never dared to hope that his fascination with her could develop into a real relationship—until this past October 1st. While searching for a costume for Bae, he’d come across the petite librarian at the traveling Halloween shop that visited Storybrooke every autumn. As he wavered between the Captain America and Ironman outfits for his son, Belle had suggested he consider the Tenth Doctor instead.

“Why?” he asked, puzzled.

 Belle stepped closer. “Well, don’t little boys want to be like their fathers?”

“How so?” Gold asked, his nostrils flaring as the delicate scent of her honeysuckle perfume wafted toward him.

Her pink tongue darted out to wet her lips, and Gold tried to tear his gaze away from her perfect rosebud mouth.

“Because the Tenth Doctor is intelligent, snarky, and devilishly handsome with a knee-buckling accent,” she said. “Rather like someone else I know.”

“Something wrong with your eyesight, dearie?” he’d snapped. Gold loathed game-playing.

“No,” she said, daring to edge near enough to run a gentle finger down the side of his cheek. “I see you quite clearly.”

Gold stared at Belle in disbelief.

“There is one difference, though,” she said.

“What’s that?” he asked, detaching his tongue from the roof of his mouth.

“Ten likes blondes.” She fingered a russet curl. “I have brown hair.”

Was she coming on to him, the Scourge of Storybrooke? Then again, he _was_ the only other unmarried person over the age of twenty-five living within a fifty-mile radius. Her choices were limited.

Their banter had led to a coffee date, and before long, Gold and Belle were inseparable. Out of deference to Bae and respect for Belle, however, their love affair had been confined to overnight hours only.

Belle would sneak over to spend time with him most nights once Braeden was asleep. Later, after they made love, she would tiptoe out the back door, through the pumpkin field behind the Gold residence, and down the hill to her own house. Each night, she borrowed one of Gold’s white button-down shirts for the short walk home. Belle said she loved to have his scent surrounding and comforting her all night long. He never wore those shirts, anyway, preferring darker colors, and buttoning little Belle into the too-large garment had become a foolish romantic routine that he adored.

Now, as they entered the master bedroom, Belle peeled off her negligée and the silk pooled at her feet in a whisper _._ She pushed him down to sit on the edge of the bed with a gleam in her eyes, and he could see that his sweet temptress was determined to take full advantage of these precious stolen hours.

* * *

Content in the circle of Gold’s arms, Belle slept for a few minutes until guilt prodded her awake. She stared down at the man she loved. His eyes were closed, the furrows and lines in his face relaxed in sleep. He was a good man, a fair man—despite what people claimed—and he loved his little boy.

Another wave of guilt crashed over her. Last night at the library she had advised Braeden to confess the truth about his feelings, but she hadn’t done the same. Here she was, crazy about the man in her arms, and she hadn’t said a word. She’d tried to show him with her body how much she cared, but deep down she knew she was being a coward. Actions were important, but a person needed to hear that they were loved and valued. _Do the brave thing, Belle._

“Christy, when are you going to tell Braeden about us?” Belle ventured, propping her elbows up on his bare chest.

_Putting the burden on him, Belle? Ok, that’s one way to go about it._

“Did you want me to?” he asked, opening eyes as steady and sharp as lasers.

She hid her face in his neck, flushing with embarrassment as a horrible thought crossed her mind: “Are you ashamed of me?”

“Belle, no! Of course not.” Gold sat up to face her, lifting her chin with his fingers. “Sweetheart, look at me. How could you think that?”

She took a deep breath. “Well, with the exception of today, we only see each other at night. I didn’t know if maybe...my reputation….” Belle trailed off, furious with herself for reminding Gold of why a relationship with her was a bad idea.

The lies cycling through the Storybrooke rumor mill didn’t sting too badly—she was used to censure—but it wasn’t fair to drag him down to her level. But she had fallen hard and fast, and she didn’t want to let him go. She’d become downright selfish where this man was concerned. Yes, she would take whatever part of his life he was willing to give.

“No.” He pressed a kiss to her open palm. “First of all, I’m the last person who should question another’s reputation. Second, I planned on discussing this with you later tonight, but then this naughty minx showed up at my door and trapped me in my bed in broad daylight. And third,” he began. “Oh, _damn_.”

“What’s wrong?” Belle cringed. Was he going to break things off with her?

“I can’t think with you naked and gorgeous in my bed, covered in nothing but a thin, white sheet,” he said huskily. Gold’s pupils darkened as he bent his head to her breast, suckling her nipple through the shroud.

Belle covered her relief with a mock pout. “Should I leave, then? Oh!” The combined friction of his clever mouth and the soft sheet rubbing against her aroused body was driving every thought out of her head. “Should I steal another of your white shirts and….mmmmm, that’s good…traipse back across the pumpkin patch….oh!”

“Not a chance,” he murmured, dragging his mouth away from her breast to lick a scorching path from her chest to her collarbone. Gold flung the sheet over both their heads and reversed direction, kissing his way down Belle’s stomach. Then with a wicked laugh that made her heart stutter, he buried his head between her legs.

The doorbell rang and the vague shouts and squeals of youngsters filtered through the windows.

“Shouldn’t you get that?” Belle asked weakly as he nuzzled her sensitive inner thighs with his stubbled cheeks.

“Blasted trick or treaters,” he complained, and the muffled sound of his voice under the sheet made her laugh in delight; his frustrated glower was positively adorable. “Let them wait!” he barked from beneath the cover.

“Yes,” she agreed on a moan, tugging on his hair to spur him on as the doorbell chimed a second and third time.

She still hadn’t confessed that she loved him, but with Gold intent on devouring her, Belle was too far gone to care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Were you surprised about Gold and Belle's established relationship, or did you see this coming?


	3. Ghost Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The baby Swanfire ghost hunt is on! Plus Gold and Belle admit some truths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes the fun part.

“See anything?” Bae asked, peering out Emma’s bedroom window with his night vision goggles, focused on the dark field of pumpkins behind his house.

“Nope.” Emma sighed loudly and dropped her own pair of goggles. “This is so extra.”

“What do you mean? Ghost-watching was _your_ idea,” he reminded her. “But if you wanna quit…”

“No way.” Emma crossed her arms in a stubborn gesture Bae was all too familiar with. “I’ll sit here as long as it takes. I’m telling you, she usually floats out your back door and straight through the patch, then disappears into thin air.”

“So you keep telling me,” Bae said sourly, and popped a gummy worm into his mouth.

An hour later, _Ghosbusters: Answer the Call_ had finished playing in the background, and they’d polished off a bag of Kit-Kat bars and a massive bowl of buttery candy corn popcorn. Still there was no sign of Emma’s woman in the white sheet, and Bae was starting to feel both smug and sleepy.

“Maybe we missed her,” Bae said, stretching his arms above his head and yawning. He was ready to give up and go to sleep. He lay down on his nest of blankets on the floor of Emma’s room and closed his eyes.

Emma kicked him in the shin.

“Ow! What’d ya do that for?” he said, rubbing his leg.

“You can’t sleep now! Get up. We need to go to your house and check things out,” Emma said.

Bae lurched to a seated position and stared at her in alarm. “Are you crazy?”

“The ghost could be on to us,” Emma said. “You know, they can hear our conversations.”

Bae remembered reading something along those lines last night at the library. “That’s true,” he mumbled.

“She probably found out about our plan to smoke her out and decided to hide in the house,” Emma said. “Ghosts don’t like their routines disturbed.”

“So you’re saying my dad is alone at home by himself with the ghost?” Bae didn’t like that mental image one bit.

“Right.” Emma paced up and down the carpet at the foot of her bed. “We’ll go over there, take a look around, and if your dad is still awake and sees us, we’ll make up some excuse that we needed another flashlight or say you forgot your toothbrush.”

As usual, Emma had it all figured out. Although Bae wanted to protest, he couldn’t come up with a single reason that didn’t make him sound like a ‘fraidy-cat. Grudgingly, he followed Emma downstairs to the first floor, hoping Mr. and Mrs. Nolan would see them and put a stop to this ridiculous scheme. No such luck: her parents were snoring on the living room couch, cradling a sleeping baby Neal between them. There was nothing to stop them from going to Bae’s house.

Alone. In the dark. To hunt down a ghost.

“Fine.” Bae said, willing the end of this night to come, like, now. “Let’s go.”

Together, they trudged up the hill, a flashlight guiding their path. The wind rushed, calling to the trees, and they answered, swaying against the night sky and rustling their leaves. In the distance, a hound brayed.

“It’s the perfect night for haunting,” Emma declared with confidence, nodding at the moon. Bae followed her gaze into the black sky. The moon was high and full and yellow, like a giant round of cheese, but the flat black clouds roiling in front of it were as gloomy and ominous as the flap of a vulture’s wings.

With shaky fingers, Bae unlocked the front door of his house and pushed it open. The old door whined on its hinges as it always did, but somehow the sound was scarier in the dark night of All Hallows Eve.  

Downstairs, all the lights had been extinguished.

“Dad must have gone to bed,” Bae whispered, reaching for the light switch.

“Don’t turn the lights on,” Emma warned, covering his cold hand with hers. Bats took flight in Bae’s tummy when Emma touched him.

“Ok,” he said, keeping hold of her hand as he scanned the foyer with the flashlight.

Although it was dark, the house felt alive tonight. Floorboards creaked beneath their feet, and the pumpkins he and Dad had carved together grinned ghoulishly in the glow of the flashlight.

“Look!” Emma pointed at the brimming treat bowl. “All the candy is still here.”

Braeden’s heart began to pound. “Think Dad forgot about trick or treat?”

_Ohhhhhh, ohhhhhhh, ahhhhhhhhh….._

Bae’s teeth began to chatter as the sound of a woman’s moans echoed down the staircase. “Do – do you hear that?”

_Ohhhhhh, ohhhhhhh, ahhhhhhhhh….._

“Yeah.” Even Emma’s voice was wobbling in the pitch-black foyer. “It sounds like it’s coming from upstairs. Maybe your dad didn’t forget. What if the woman in the white shroud has him captive?”

Braeden thought back on his reading at the library yesterday. “Ghosts can’t actually hurt you, Emma, remember?”

“That’s right,” she said importantly. “All they can do is try to harness our fear.”

Bae resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He was about to make a comment about know-it-alls when the moaning started again.

_Ohhhhhh, ohhhhhhh, ahhhhhhhhh, ahhhhhhhh, ooooooooooh…._

_Ahhhhhhhh, ahhhhhhhhhhh, ooooooooooooooooooh, uuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhh….._

“Definitely upstairs.” Bae gulped, gesturing toward the hulking shadow of the staircase. “And it’s getting louder.”

Like twin cat burglars, they crept up the stairs in unison, jumping at every creak and whine of the old wood. Together they paused on the dark landing. The noises were definitely coming from his father’s room at the end of the hall.

_Ahhhhhhhhh, ohhhhhhhh, ahhhhhhhhh……_

The pitch and tone of the moans increased, and it started to sound like the woman was in pain, which made no sense at all. Emma and Bae huddled closer together.

“Bae?” Emma stopped, and Bae held his breath, waiting for another sassy remark. “Don’t – don’t let go of my hand, ok?”

“I won’t,” he promised, squeezing her fingers even tighter. Emma’s sudden fear emboldened him, made him feel brave. “Nothing’s going to happen to us,” he said with confidence. “We’re gonna walk down that hall, open Dad’s door, and scare the ghost away. It’s probably nothing, anyway. A trick of the wind.”

The litany of moans swelled and ricocheted through the hallway, intensifying as they tiptoed closer. A shrill scream pierced the frigid air and they jumped again, then stood trembling outside of his dad’s door. Emma was clinging to his arm like a clamp, and Bae’s digits were beginning to tingle.

“It’s cold up here…that means there’s a ghost close by. The temperature always drops when they’re….”

“Emma.”

“Yeah?” She pressed against his side like a second skin.

“Stop talking.”

_Ohhhhhh, ohhhhhhh, ahhhhhhhhh, ahhhhhhhh, ooooooooooh._

_Ahhhhhhhh, ahhhhhhhhhhh, ooooooooooooooooooh, uuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhh._

“She’s really getting loud now,” Emma whispered.

Bae flipped the flashlight around and shone it on his face. He stared hard at Emma and put his finger to his mouth. “Shhh.”

_Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!_

Holding his breath, Bae grasped the doorknob and cracked it open, shining the flashlight onto the hardwood, and peered through the crack.

A billowing shroud flowed and rippled over the surface of his father’s bed, moving and frothing like a giant white wave. Another cry rang out, and as Bae raised the light, he saw a pale head bent backwards over the bed, a shock of dark hair cascading from her white forehead to the floor. The ghost lady’s eyes were closed and her scarlet mouth opened on a silent scream.

He snapped his eyes back to Emma, screamed in terror, and hand-in-hand, they fled back down the hallway and flew down the stairs and out the front door.

* * *

Belle flailed, kicking Gold hard, and he summersaulted off the bed and onto the hardwood.

“Braeden? Son, wait!” Gold called from the floor, rubbing his tailbone. But the sound of footfalls crashing down the stairs made it clear that his boy hadn’t heard.

“Oh no!” Belle cried, covering her face with her hands. “This is my fault! Braeden was at the library last night looking at books about ghosts. Now I-we-you…oh God, we’ve terrified him!”

“No, sweetheart.” Gold shook his head. “You’re not responsible for this. It was a misunderstanding, and a clear signal that we should have talked to Bae long before now.”

“More like a flashing neon sign,” Belle muttered, switching on the bedside light. She yanked one of Gold’s white shirts off the hanger and slipped into it, then knelt down beside him and stroked his jaw. “Did I hurt you, baby?”

“It’s nothing a bag of frozen peas can’t fix.” In spite of his pain and humiliation, he forced a smile and drew her fingers to his mouth and kissed them. He had more than one misunderstanding to clear up. “Belle…I’m in love with you.”

Her beautiful eyes blinked back tears. “You are? Really?”

“Yes.” Tears began to roll down her cheeks and he wiped them away with his thumbs. “I should have told you sooner—planned to earlier tonight—but I was afraid. I wasn’t sure you wanted more than a casual affair with a man like me.”

“And I wasn’t sure you wanted to be seen in public with the black widow,” she said, her cheeks mottled. “I know the townspeople say that I murdered my last boyfriend and buried him at the library. He really did move to Paris, honest. The guy was a jerk, but I’m not _that_ vindictive.”

“You must know that I never believed those rumors, Belle. You are the kindest, sweetest, most generous woman I’ve ever known,” he said. “I only hope you can someday come to care for me the way I care for you.”

“But I already do. Christy, I love you, too. I think I’ve loved you since the day I saw you at the Halloween shop trying to choose a costume for Braeden. I’d certainly admired you long before that,” Belle said, pressing her face into the fall of his hair.

“Belle, you make me happy,” he said simply, allowing her to help him to his feet. “It’s past time I admitted that truth. To all of us—including my son.”

Gold pulled on his trousers and reached for the phone. He would likely be waking the Nolans from a sound sleep to involve them in this circus he’d orchestrated, but it had to be done. He needed to talk to his son right away.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Gold, Belle, Braeden, and Emma were sitting at the kitchen table sipping hot cups of spiced apple cider and nibbling warm, cinnamon sugar donuts.

Gold would rather not have Emma here for this delicate conversation, but thanks to his indiscretion she’d become embroiled in this debacle, and he wouldn’t tolerate her running around town telling tales and damaging Bae’s friendships. He cleared his throat, trying to ease the tension that not even sugary treats could cut. Whisky would help, but drinking around ten-year-olds was frowned upon, and donuts and cider were the best he could come up with.

“Bae, Emma – Miss French and I brought you here because… Belle and I… when two people…”

“We’re in love,” Belle interrupted, laying a reassuring hand on top of Gold’s. “Braeden, your father and I saw each other at the shops about a month ago, struck up a conversation, and our relationship just happened. I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sooner. We both are.”

“Yes. Son, please understand, Belle and I wanted to be sure of each other before we involved a third heart—yours,” Gold added, finding his voice.

“Oh. Well, that’s ok.” Bae flashed a little smile. “I’m happy for you, Dad, but,” his face scrunched in a frown, “I’m kind of confused.”

“What questions do you have?” Gold asked seriously, then rolled his eyes as Emma leaned forward. “Do you need a refresher on sex education? I was going to share more details when you’re older, but if you want to discuss it now—” 

“Gross. Stop, Dad.” Bae interjected, glancing at Emma from the corner of his eye. “My ears are gonna start bleeding.”

“Better your ears than your eyes,” Gold muttered under his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing, son. Is it hot in here?” Gold murmured to Belle, tugging on the collar of his robe.

 “Feels fine to me,” Emma said loudly.

Gold’s expression was bewildered, and Belle shot Emma a pointed look.

“Now we have a question for both of you: what were you doing skulking around in the house in the dark?” Belle asked looking between the two kids.

“How else were we going to find the ghost?” Bae asked.

“Ghost? What ghost? Braeden, this house is not haunted.” Gold wagged a stern finger. “Damn neighborhood kids, spreading lies. Isn’t your father scary enough on his own?”

“Dad, I’m serious.”

“As am I.”

“She was there in your room, levitating above the bed. I saw her. Tonight,” Bae’s tone was urgent and tinged with fear.

“No, sweetie,” Belle began. “What you saw…” Searching for words, Belle ran a hand through her curls and the elbow of Gold’s too-large white shirt dipped into her cup of hot chocolate. She pulled her arm back, making a small noise of distress. “Oh, no. Chocolate is almost impossible to get out of white shirts!” She looked at Gold with an apologetic frown. “Sorry, baby.”

Emma’s eyes widened in realization. “White. Woman in white…it was you! All the shouting we heard tonight was coming from you!” Emma exclaimed, pointing at Belle. “It was you every night this month, creeping through the pumpkin patch!”

Belle turned to Gold and bit her lip to keep from laughing. The young lady was right, and Belle respected her honest assessment of the situation, even if said young lady could use some coaching on tact and manners.

“Is my face bright red?” Belle asked, laying her hands on her scalding cheeks.

“Only a little,” Bae said helpfully.

“Guilty. When I walk home at night after spending time with your father, I borrow one of his shirts. I don’t know why…silly, really,” Belle said, blushing even harder.

“I think it’s sorta romantic,” Emma said with admiration.

“Anyway, I’m really sorry my yelling scared you both,” Belle said penitently.

“ _We_ are sorry for frightening you,” Gold said. “This wasn’t all Belle’s fault and I won’t allow her to accept all the blame.”

“I wasn’t scared,” Emma bluffed.

“Emma, you screamed so hard I could see your tonsils,” Bae said baldly. “You were scared. We both were.”

Bae turned to Belle, then to his father. “So… does this mean you’ll stop hiding and then Belle can come move in with us?” he asked, unable to keep the note of hope out of his voice. He’d never known his mother. Miss French wasn’t perfect, but he loved her, too, and he hoped one day she’d want to belong to him as much as she wanted to belong to his father.

“Belle?” Gold asked.

“I would…I would like that,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye.

“There’s no need to cry,” Emma said, producing a tissue and holding it in front of Belle’s nose. Belle accepted it gratefully and dabbed at her eyes.

Gold kissed Belle’s cheek, then squinted at the horizon, thankful for a reason to send the nosy little girl next door home where she belonged. “The sun is rising, Braeden.  Halloween is over. Why don’t you walk Emma back to her house?”

* * *

“So, some night, huh?” Bae said, staring at the ground as he escorted Emma home. The frosty dew from the cold snap overnight seeped into his sneakers, making him shiver.

“I’ll say,” Emma agreed. She stopped in her tracks and touched his shoulder. “Listen, I’m sorry I said your house was haunted. This isn’t your father’s fault, or Miss French’s, or yours. It was mine. If I hadn’t suggested that a ghost was running around…”

“It’s ok. Believe it or not, I had fun,” Bae said with a broad smile. “Besides, if you hadn’t thought you had seen a ghost, I might not have known about my dad and Miss French.” In spite of how he’d found out, he couldn’t be happier that his father was dating his favorite librarian.

“Well you were super brave,” Emma said. “When the, uh, moaning started, I was ready to run. Thought I’d gotten us in too deep with my big mouth. But you stuck it out.”

 Bae grinned at the compliment. Coming from Emma, this was high praise. His thoughts returned to Miss French’s advice at the library the other night, about being honest about his feelings. He laced his fingers with Emma’s. She looked up at him in surprise, but she didn’t let go. Bae’s heart began to thump.

“I like you a lot, Emma. We should stick together,” he said. “I, uh, think we make a pretty good team.”

“Yeah,” Emma said, clutching his hand as they continued walking into the sunshine. “We absolutely do.”

 

_\- The End-_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this fluffy, silly, slightly smutty Halloween romp. Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> What do you think of Bae and Emma's plan? And what (or who) is haunting the Gold residence?


End file.
